Blood Sport
by Idonquixote
Summary: AU. Bard is a gambler down on his luck. That is, until he runs into runaway orphans Ciel Phantomhive and Elizabeth Midford, urchins who make their living through demonic cockfights. Literally. It helps that they own a demon who happens to be one hell of a fighter. But in a world of lechery and sin, nothing is as simple as it seems. (Ft. violence, grit, and a very hurt Sebastian)
1. Prologue

**I was thinking about doing an AU like this for a while. I haven't given up on "His Butler, Domestic" though- I'm still working on it for sure. But this plot bunny wanted to come out so here it is!**

 **Note: This isn't the "official" beginning of the story; it's more like a prologue and the rest of the story will cover how we got up to this point, AKA the lowest point in AU!Sebastian's life.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

It hadn't always been like this. Or maybe it had, and he was too caught up in his own arrogance to notice. Somewhere between the crowd chanting for his blood and the tearing of freshly scarred skin, he let the memories- facts -flow by. He had been a poet once. He was a tutor, an adviser. An emperor's aide, a general's right hand. His back hit the rusted cage, leaving a shapely dent in the steel.

He had been on top of them all.

He had thought-

Claws closed around his throat. Blood gathered in his mouth and he sputtered in spite of himself. And to think, that feeble windpipe of his had once been so beautiful.

He had thought wrong.

"Rip his head off!"

"Off!"

"Eat him!"

He was nothing. He had always been nothing, save for a vile leech preying on the lowest dregs of humanity. And why was that? Envy, perhaps. The lights danced ahead of him, fluorescent, flickering panels. It was all the light he would ever have. But he would commit the same mistake over and over. Such was the nature of his kind.

"Fight back, you son of a-!"

"Foul play!"

Starving, toxic, desperate. Unfit to even look at the sun. The crowd's insults poured in, directed at him or the opponent, he didn't care to tell. Teeth ripped into his torn shoulder, the mangled arm rendered useless long ago. He clawed at his assailant, a wild hulk of a being, as hungry as himself. The last of his stitches came apart and to his surprising relief, the blood flowed. The warmth on his torso calmed him somehow, the overwhelming scent of fresh iron momentarily distracting him from the pain. It streamed in blots, pushing past clotting wounds and painting over damaged skin.

He finally understood why that reaper loved the color so. It was a welcome change of scheme against the darkness. Broken fingers stopped struggling. _May the best beast win_ , the lights had once blared. He was not the best nor had he ever been, and somehow that revelation took a world of weight off his crushed shoulders.

He no longer needed the light. The red shone. And it was all he would need now. Yes, how easy it would be to relax and let go...

 _"Sebastian!"_

It was a dim voice in the crowd, valiant in how loud it tried to be in spite of its timbre. He looked through blurry eyes, past the pain and teeth, and into that sea of greedy faces.

 **"Sebastian!"**

Booming, now. The child was pushing a path for himself, forcing his way through the crowd. But he was such a tiny, angry being- one electric blue eye, hair matted down by sweat. Ciel Phantomhive. He should not have come. He should not have. But why-

He slammed against the floor, ears ringing with the other demon's roar and the clang of a bullet. Each eyelid was more weight than it was worth- he struggled to glimpse their audience. Ciel had ventured to the front of the spectators and was now climbing onto the bars of the cage, a shotgun in his grasp. Ciel fired again, to the crowd's dismay.

"Boy, get out of here!" the announcer ordered, removing himself from the crowd and rushing at the child.

"Stop me and I kill you where you stand!" Ciel roared. To make good on his threat, he aimed the gun, hands dangerously still. The cage rattled behind him, from where the demon tackled, eager to rid itself of the pesky child.

But Ciel didn't flinch. Yes, this was the human Sebastian could not understand. If the last thing he saw before swift death was Ciel Phantomhive, that would be a blessing in itself.

"You! You're his owner, aren't you! Call your pet off now!" the boy barked, at who, Sebastian couldn't tell. It was all dark now.

 _"Get that brat away!"_

 _Bang._

 _"He shot me!"_

 _"Let me go! Sebastian!"_

 _"Finish the fight!"_

 _"Sebastian- gah!- The fight is already finished and the lot of you cheated! Every single one of you!"_

 _Bang._

 _"You! Open that cage!"_

He felt a violent kick connect with his skull. A simple human kick.

 _"I bet double on you!"_

He expected another kick, but only heard a child's cry. _Ciel's_. He tried to open one swollen eye. The boy's back was facing him, half slouched. Had he taken that blow for him? _Why._ But his mouth refused to comply.

"All of you, get away from us," Ciel growled, "this is the last cockfight he'll ever be in."

The jingling of coins. The sack of money left Ciel's pocket and hit the ground. "This- this is all I have."

The boy was an excellent actor, as good as a little imp. But then and there, he didn't seem to be putting on a show. Perhaps Sebastian felt too weak to see past the farce, too injured to process the thoughts- he could have sworn he heard a trace of sorrow in his master's voice. And yet again, causing pain was all he was good for.

 _"Just let him- us go."_

Gentle hands cradled his head, fingers running over the cuts and bruises- it might have stung, but he felt nothing save those soft caresses.

"Damn it," the boy hissed, palm pausing over the demon's bleeding forehead, "your fever's acting up again- you really are a senseless idiot."

Why, was all he wanted to ask. But even breathing proved too hard a task.

"If you were this badly hurt, why didn't you tell me?" Ciel whispered, the strain finally catching on his voice.

The crowd was restless again. He could hear the insults and jeers raining down on them, but they were incoherent to his senses. He thought of Ciel being drowned out by that savage group; noble, steadfast Ciel, his soul stronger than a thousand of their frames, buried under that sea of ants. And all for _him_ , a crippled insect flipped on its back and no more useful than a pile of ash. _Why?_

"I'm," he managed to croak, low and wispy, "sorry."

He poured his last vestige of strength into those words. Even his hearing chose to fail him by then. The last thing he saw was indeed Ciel Phantomhive's face, expression pained and lost.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are more than welcome and please let me know if you're interested in this plot or not.**

 **I do have a request for reviewers, though: feel free to leave suggestions on what other horrible things should happen to Sebastian. (You don't have to if you don't want to, of course haha)**

 **Elizabeth and Bard are the other main characters in this fic so they'll have a ton to do here too. The other thing I can guarantee about this story is that there is a TON of hurt!Sebastian, like a ridiculous amount.**


	2. Infernum

**Thanks for the reviews! They really are the things that motivate me to physically write. Here's the second chapter, which is the official beginning of the story. Even though it's only one chapter in, I had fun plotting this and I hope you find it worth reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

Thunder struck and the chips went in. He bit the bottom of his lip, a grudging hand shoving the notes forward, that bastard smirking at him from across the table, cards laid flat. Flat and victorious. His mouth tasted like smoke, not that it was anything worth noting. Blue eyes turned towards the window, or what was left of the cracked thing.

It was raining, harsh strikes of water slamming their rundown retreat. Another clap of thunder followed a flash of lightning- _bombshells, the grenade, not here not now_ \- he turned and pulled the tattered coat off the back of his chair. The brunette the next table over was now standing on top of the scattered spinwheel, breasts shaking (too bad she didn't swing his way) as she laughed.

"Pay up, chumps! Mama Hopkins is taking it home!"

With various amounts of groaning and cursing, the losers did, all of them looking even grimier and murkier than usual. He blamed it on the lack of ventilation.

"Bard, you cheating me?"

"The hell you say?" he snapped back.

"Come on, you play the game, you pay the price."

"That's all I have and you know it, Vanel." Bard pointed at the remains of his money with a dramatic sweep of the hands. "I'll see you around."

"Your pockets," Vanel said, kicking his legs onto the table. A ringed finger pointed at Bard. "Empty your pockets or I'll have them emptied, eh?"

Shit.

Bard threw the coat on. "Do I look the type who'd cheat you?"

Vanel had a guy in the corner of the casino and he was coming this way. There was another standing behind the man, and Bard assumed that blockhead by the door was one too. Hopkins was still cackling over her victory. The truth was Bard did not want to pay up. He barely had enough as it was. He stepped back.

"Yankee, you're exactly the type," Vanel said.

That was all the cue he needed. Bard turned. And ran. He might have knocked over a few beer bottles in the process but he didn't have the time to notice. Or care. He delivered a rather ungentlemanly shove to one of the waitresses on his way and she landed on the pool table.

"Break his legs!" Vanel cried.

A gunshot fired behind him, but that was nothing to Bard. He'd been a soldier once. And he'd sure as hell soldier through this. The man by the door tried to catch him in a bearhug, but Bard wriggled free with a sharp kick to the thug's crotch. He wasn't dying today. The doors burst open, and a wave of water crashed over them.

He ran on, wiping the droplets from his face, not that it did much to help. The casino's large "Ferro" sign glowed red in bright neon letters, the O long since burnt out. Bard hurried past the scattered tents of foodstands littered in front of Ferro. A few electric cars zoomed by, narrowly avoiding collision. Onto the streets.

Bang!

Too many damn wires everywhere- he tripped. Telegram wires, telephone wires, wires for everything. He picked himself up by the elbows and looked behind the shoulder- Vanel's men were hot on his trail and they were gaining. He stood, soaked and covered in mud, and that was when the pain registered. A streak of blood on his arm, from where the bullet had grazed.

Temper flaring, Bard flashed the middle finger at them. Upon retrospect, that was the wrong move. He hobbled away as they came, more incensed than ever. Wires everywhere, everywhere. There was an alley up ahead, sealed off by shadows. It was perfect.

Bidding a mental farewell to one of his few comforts, Bard pulled out his cigarette lighter. He flicked it open. He saw them aim that gun again. Bard dropped the lighter and the wires went up in flames. The brief explosion caught that group of three by surprise, if their screams were anything to go by.

He turned on his heels and escaped into that alleyway, hoping the rain wouldn't put out that fire so fast.

* * *

 _Really didn't think you could sink any lower._

Bard scoffed, pretending to chew a nonexistent tobacco stick. Vanel knew where he lived, not that there was much to salvage in that crummy inn room anyway. It wouldn't be his for long- rent was overdue. What he needed to do was lie low for a while. Find somewhere to hide and maybe earn some money back. Funny- there was a time when sleight of hand was _his_ strong suit. And now he couldn't even win a cardgame.

He pressed his back against the brick wall, breath coming out in puffs of mist. He'd end up on the streets soon enough and there wasn't even a nice cardboard box to lay back on. Most of the crates lying around were toxic and disease-infested. It was a miracle he survived that bout of fever the past year.

Bard inspected his stinging arm- he would have to clean it to avoid infection. Then sew it up himself. What a day.

His coat ruffled. Alarmed, he shifted his gaze. A small figure was darting away from him. Damn it. He'd been too busy with this pity party that he hadn't noticed the pickpocket. Bard fingered the coat, realizing in horror that his wallet was gone. _First the lighter, now this!_

"Hey!" he shouted, pushing himself off the wall and stumbling a bit from the effort.

"Oy, get back here!"

What a day. Bard was off, running as fast as his legs would carry him for the second time that evening. "Get back here, you little shit!" He had a lot of steam to let off and that punk was in for a beating if things got any worse. If anything, that pushed the thief to run faster.

Bard could make out a beige hood around the pickpocket's head. And bare feet. Bare bloodied feet.

They came to a dead end, and to Bard's frustration, the bastard decided to scale the wall. He latched on the bricks and began climbing as far as those thin limbs could do. Bard watched in exasperation before following suit. The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the adrenaline he felt. As soon as the thief made it on the ground with a graceful splash, Bard landed in a clumsy collapse- that would smart in the morning.

But his approach had startled the pickpocket, and it was the opening he needed to tackle him. Bard grabbed his shoulders and they both tumbled on the ground, rolling in the wet muck and who knew what else.

"Got you now, you son of a-!"

The hood had rolled off and Bard was left speechless. It was a girl, fourteen, maybe younger by the looks of it, soft golden curls sprawled in a puddle, bright green eyes staring up at him, dazed. Apart from the dust on her face and the bruise on her temple, this looked more like a doll than a girl. A rich doll at that.

"Alright, kid, hand it over," he growled. But now was not the time for stupid questions.

"Wait," she said.

He stood, roughly hoisting her up with him by the arm. "I don't care if you're poor- we've all got problems."

"I need this," she said, too calm for his comfort.

"And so do I! Now give it back!"

"I told you," she said, shaking her head, " _I need this_."

No, she wasn't being calm. She was being defiant. And was he really going to pound a little girl? So instead, he stood his ground and the pair exchanged glares.

"I'm not just going to let you go, you know. People like you should be locked up!" he said.

"No," she said, a little more worried this time, "no, I can't go, they-"

"Great, there's more of you?"

She tried to push out of his grip, but he held fast, eyes unable to ignore the blood gathering beneath her feet, the soles likely scraped from all her running on gravel.

"I saw you outside Ferro," she said lowly. Before he could respond, she cut him off, "you're in trouble. I'm sorry- I shouldn't have targeted you. But- I had to. If you let me have this, I- we can help you."

She sounded sincere enough. And those emerald eyes implored him. Shit, he shouldn't have looked at her sad eyes.

"We?"

"Me and-" she trailed off. "Your arm- we should clean that up."

His grip was slackening, damn it. "And your feet, kid." His remark surprised her. "Does it hurt to walk?"

She was going to answer but he decided to cut her off. The more he looked at this kid, the more pity welled up in him- things were looking shitty for him but he was a grown man at least. And this was just a child, all things considered. "I'll carry you to uh, where ever they are. Got a name, kid?"

He let go at last and stooped, pointing at his back.

"Elizabeth."

* * *

His arm was throbbing by the time they got to Elizabeth's "home," a boarded-up building that looked like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe novel. In other words, Bard would never set foot in here if it wasn't for the girl on his back.

The rain was still pounding fervently when they reached shelter. Inside was no better than the outside, though he did see some lit candles on wooden tables. The place looked like an abandoned bar. There was an organ up front and- oh.

He glanced at the windows- they weren't stained with mud. It was colored glass- this had once been a church, but it was so desecrated at this point he could barely tell. It was almost fitting that someone like Elizabeth would seek shelter here.

A little ways beside the organ was a fireplace, the flames crackling inside, its red coloring tinting everything a faint shade of orange and interweaving with the shadows of raindrops. And the closer Bard got, the more his eyes adjusted. There was a figure brooding by the fire.

"Who are you?" it asked in a voice not much lower than Elizabeth's.

The figure turned, revealing a head of glossy dark hair. The first thing Bard saw was the pale eyepatch, followed by the jaded gaze of the child's eye.

"You're a boy?" was the first thing Bard blurted out.

Giggling, Elizabeth slid off his back and ran towards the child. If her companion was indignant at Bard's arrival, his eye immediately flooded with emotion at seeing her, be it love or sincere relief. They embraced on the spot.

"This is Ciel, my friend."

Ciel fixed him with a glare before turning back to the girl, "Elizabeth, why-?"

"He carried me back." Bard appreciated her omission of his manhandling.

Elizabeth plopped down on the nearest pew, raising her feet for Ciel to see. He dropped to his knees, picking them up and inspecting the wounds with an unreadable expression. As if sensing the disapproval on Bard's face, Elizabeth addressed him.

"I had to go out today because of the rain. Ciel has asthma."

The boy did look a good few shades paler than Elizabeth. His thin frame did not speak of a healthy constitution.

"Who are you? I'm assuming Elizabeth robbed you," Ciel said, not a change in tone, and far more eloquent than Bard had expected.

"Name's Bardroy." How to phrase this? "The little lady here made a deal with me."

"What sort of deal?" There was that protective edge in his voice again.

Elizabeth gently removed Ciel's hands and stood up. "We have to take care of your arm, mister, and my feet." She wandered by the fire, rummaging for items in what appeared to be bags. "We have lots of things for that. Alcohol, bandages... lots of bandages."

"Right." Bard furrowed his brow. It was just a graze. His _life_ , on the other hand. It was embarrassing to be here but he was out of cards to play. "What about getting me away from trouble at Ferro? You're really my last gamble, kid."

Elizabeth cast him a sweet smile. "Look behind you."

So Bard did.

And screamed.

Hot red eyes regarded him with amusement. For a moment, he thought they floated in shadow. Only after a good few blinks did he see the shape of a man, ashen and lithe, with hair the color of coal. A hand pulled him up by the collar, black nails digging into the worn cotton.

"My my," the man said, smooth and dark, "how lovely of the lady to bring me my food."

Bard saw the hint of a grin, and what appeared to be fangs behind that mouth. Oh shit. And the bright eyes- he knew what these things were. He'd seen them prowling in the alleys, seen the signs plastered on the walls- heck, he might have even seen one when he passed that freakshow the other day.

"Stop fooling around," Ciel grumbled. And with that, the creature let Bard go, but not with some malice in those eyes. "I have no interest in secondrate souls anyway," it muttered.

"This is Sebastian." Elizabeth came to stand by the newcomer, something new in her hand. "Our _demon_."

"When did it get in-"

"I was here all along, Bardroy. In that corner to be exact." The demon offered a condescending smile, as pretty as his false face. Without meaning to, Bard found himself balling his fists.

"Stop shaking," Ciel said, coming to Bard's side, "he won't do anything without my consent."

The boy flashed Sebastian ( _they fucking named it_ ) a haughty glance. "No better than a dog, really," he continued, "just a tool for us to make means end. No, even less than that."

"I do detest dogs," the demon quipped, that plastered smile still on his face. Bard really wanted to back away.

"Lizzie, cut to the chase," the boy said.

Elizabeth held up the item, a worn flyer ripped at its edges: _Infernum, the cockfight of the century. Entry fee_ £2 _. First prize_ £ _500\. Winner take all. Registration closes 5 February._

"I think I know where you're going with this, but can't say I'm too sure." Bard took the flyer and examined more. There was the location of the cockfight. He'd seen a few of these ads before, usually tacked onto the underside of a shady table, but never paid much mind. These things were as legal as gambling, which meant that either way, he'd be sent to jail if he was caught. Fine by him. "I don't got a pet, if that's what you're asking."

Elizabeth giggled again, once more too sweet for his comfort. "No, Bardroy. Infernum is what these are all called. It's not just a fancy name."

At his confusion, she let loose another laugh, "don't worry. We were just as confused before. Have you ever bet on a horse?"

"Once or twice. Damn things let me down."

"It's the same concept, but with cockfighting. We can bet as much as we want, but no matter what the total number of bets pools to, there will always be some prize money for the winners, usually three. But it never gets that close- only one tends to win these."

"So what exactly are these?"

Here, Ciel cut in. "Gambling with demons, quite literally. Put them in place of the chickens. We've been doing this for over a year now and Sebastian has never lost."

"Alright... so, Elizabeth, you're offering me a cut of the de- _Sebastian's_ earnings?"

"And there you have it!" Elizabeth said, beaming.

"But if it's never lost a fight, why do you need my money?" Now there was something Bard didn't get.

"This particular infernum is a grand fight of sorts," Ciel explained, "the prize usually doesn't go that far. And the bets, well, they're from people like yourself (hey!), so you can imagine how well off we are by the end of each fight. As with all underground activity, there needs to be wait time between each event."

"So you ran out of money, eh?"

Ciel huffed. "Put simply, yes."

"Some things can't be stolen and they don't come cheap," Elizabeth said, "medicine for instance."

"And the doctor," Bard finished for her. His mind could connect the dots- if Ciel's asthma story was to be believed, something had befallen the boy not long ago and Elizabeth was left trying to save the boy's life. She must have succeeded. And now they needed money for the next cockfight.

"But you won't be a sitting duck," the girl said, "this is just the fight we're holding out for. There's another one tomorrow- we should be able to have some money to bet on it. Thanks to you."

"Huh. I guess it all works out this way," Bard conceded.

"Only if we win." Ciel directed his gaze at Sebastian. "Which we will, understand?"

"There isn't much to go on with Bardroy's money (hey!). But it's worth a shot." Elizabeth perked up again. Bard assumed these not-so-subtle comments were delivered to bait the demon, whose smile had finally melted into a frown.

Sebastian took a seat on the pew and stared into the fire. The place must not be very holy if it could house a demon without completely bursting into flames.

"Now that you know everything, there's no point in hiding other complications," Ciel said, drawing back Bard's attention. "Sebastian was wounded not long ago. He's not yet recovered so placing your faith in his victory would be a gamble in itself. Of course, Elizabeth and I have no choice. You on the other hand, could still attempt to take your money and leave."

Bard considered the boy's words. He could sneak out with the money and never come back but... he just plain didn't trust this Ciel. He didn't know how badly injured the demon was; Sebastian looked perfectly fine to him. But wounded or not, the demon could still murder him if he wanted. And if he really was at Ciel's beck and call... yes, Bard was in for the long haul.

"No, I made my choice. Can't go back on my word."

"Very well."

Bard pressed a hand over his arm, the blood having stopped leaking. "So, Elizabeth, uh Ciel, you have room for a fourth here? I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place right now."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! And reviews are beyond welcome- this won't be a short story so I'd love to know how many people are interested/continue to be interested in it!**

 **As you can all see, this fic offers an equal amount of pain for everyone, not just Sebastian. And again, suggestions for what horrible things this dorky demon can go through over the course of the fic are welcome in reviews (and believe me, even without suggestions, there is a lot down the road...)**

 **Guest #1: Thanks! I hope you liked this Lizzie. She barely interacted with Sebastian this time since it was just an introduction for Bard, but she'll definitely have more one-on-one sessions with him and the others as the story goes on.**

 **Guest #2: Yes, this story is not kind to Sebastian. At all haha. He's going to need a lot of support from reviewers ;)**

 **Next time: Bard joins the trio and the first cockfight**


	3. Historiarum I

**Another update of this bizarre, sadistic story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as always, and I hope this chapter answers more questions (and opens new ones too). The style is intentionally different because most of the exposition is stuff the characters themselves already know and I thought it was a neat way to introduce the background (skip to the end if you just want to see the cockfight). Let me know if it worked.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

Among the most popular sources of entertainment in London, 1889:

1) The use, trade, and harboring of intoxicants

2) Gambling

3) Prostitution

Among the illegal activity in London, 1889:

1) The use, trade, and harboring of intoxicants

2) Gambling

3) Prostitution

There were no particulars for the location of these crimes nor did they make an effort to hide. The Law seldom, if ever, touched the trinity. The nation's underbelly was seedy, if not muddied all around, and the spread of debauchery was not limited to the corners of society. It was the mainstream itself that posed the biggest problem and the cleanest of men were quickly rooted out.

This was a world for the basest and it made sure to let its inhabitants know. These thoughts were on no one's mind and at everyone's at once. For instance, in one gambler's mind as he filed into his seat on the wooden stands within a rundown building, he worried that the purity of two children would lead to a con to his disadvantage.

Said children sat on either side of him, small dirty bobs lost in a crowd of sweat and grime. The cheap light dimmed and flickered before focusing on the stage beneath them, once meant for a dinner theatre and now reduced to a platform covered in dry blood.

This worried gambler didn't know the first thing about cockfighting. All he knew was that it brought money.

A few rules about cockfighting:

1) Killing is a choice. Once a necessity, it became evident that business blooms with more living than dead.

2) No interference, no extras, no bail- commitment is final

3) Winner take all

He knew little on the origins of this particular form of cockfight, but like most, understood it linked back to a deal with the devil, a tale that stretched eons backwards.

In the height of the Roman reign, Emperor Claudius VI was among the first to make such a deal. Born into a life of luxury and power, he was the thirteenth son in a family of women, the only one eligible for his father's throne. An act of treachery would change that trajectory on his fifteenth birthday. Not long after Emperor Claudius V was ambushed and killed en route to conquer the Saxons, General Livius returned to dispose of the family.

The son of a chambermaid and Emperor Augustus, Livius I was the shamed half-brother of Claudius V and the rightful uncle of his children. With a mind as sharp as the sword he wielded, Livius quickly impressed his father and rose through the ranks. Trusted adviser, friend, and brother, Livius' betrayal was made all the worse.

To save the prince's life, Claudius' sisters threw themselves atop him as Livius' army stormed in. Killing the boy would have been easy, but the servant in charge of the attempt had a crueler (or perhaps kinder) intention in mind. Too frail for the Colosseum, Claudius VI was branded and sold as a common slave, taken out of the Roman borders and far from Livius' reign.

Whatever tortures Claudius endured were overshadowed by the tortures that followed the empire- not since the plagues of Egypt had so much misfortune befallen a city. Crumbling within and attacked by enemies all around, the period of Livius was a time of unrest and death. Having fallen under the hands of witch masters, Claudius grasped the last thread fate had to offer him. It was here Livius' fall truly began.

Claudius willed himself to forsake everything- his body, his title, his very soul- and in answer, a legion of beings rose from the depths of hell. This was Claudius' Army of Imps and the two masters he had offered his soul.

Having watched the slaughter of his sisters one by one, young Claudius grew up with only one desire at heart: vengeance. He had returned as the storm let up in Rome, having survived the markings of a slave and the ravages of war. By his side, the creatures that had latched onto his hatred, later to be known as the steel advisers, named for their cunning and sadistic rule- Germanus and Domitius.

An aging Livius stood no chance against Claudius' army and was impaled by his own sword. The Army of Imps was sent back and Claudius regained the empire. Ruling with an iron fist, he took it upon himself to crush their attackers and raise Livius' children as his own. Ironically called "son," Livius II grew to hate Claudius. As the empire shed more blood under Claudius' name, the emperor left the infrastructure under Domitius' control.

And Domitius in turn, shared his power with his partner, Germanus, for both devils were gleeful under their contractor. Germanus was particularly fond of the Colosseum and its blood sacrifices. As such, the humans provided little entertainment for him. With Claudius' approval, he called back the Army of Imps, and one by one threw them into the ring. The humans stood little chance and the spectacle ended with the imps slaying one another until nothing remained.

Among Claudius' growing sea of troubles, this was an unexpected event. More bitter and bloodthirsty than ever before under the emperor's rule, the people clamored for Germanus' bloodsport. Gone were the days of the gladiator. This was the catharsis they so sought. And so Germanus' hobby bloomed into a business under Claudius' orders. Domitius was to gather their fellow devils and Germanus would see to it that they played their parts- deceit, intimidation, and raw power were the three keys to success, for these lesser devils were ants against the likes of the steel advisers.

When Claudius died, leaving behind no sons save the ill-fated Livius II, Germanus and Domitius eagerly devoured his soul. It was a feast for kings. The steel advisers stayed with the empire long after his death, for Germanus had taken Claudius' form, an act Livius II did not approve of. Upon taking the emperor's form, Germanus continued his trade with a thirst that even a flood of blood could not quench.

It is believed Livius II contracted Domitius soon after and split from Germanus for good, never to meet again. Germanus eventually left the empire to crumble, taking his business elsewhere. As humanity crawled in and out of the dark ages, he had his fair share of meals and fights, though for a time the blood sport was considered vulgar by the very humans he sought to sell it to. No longer the glorious battles of old, it had become an activity of the perverse and animalistic by the sixteenth century.

As Germanus steadily fell from grace, his followers and imitators did with him. He was left with demons he had bred as fighting livestock, more useful as fighting chickens than soldiers. True to his nature, Germanus sold what he could and abandoned the rest to wander the earth.

Germanus did not resurface until 1750, the year he contracted a Jonathan O'Connor, a heavy investor in the human slave trade, a business the devil was no stranger to. At O'Connor's insistence, Germanus brought the blood sport back to life and the Connor Corporation profited like never before. It was not enough for Germanus, who had once witnessed the stadium in all its splendor. These demonic sideshows did little to impress him, though they fared well with the lower dregs of the public.

Shortly after O'Connor's death, an imp rebelled against its masters, razing a town to the ground. To Germanus' great amusement, the Grim Reaper Dispatch Association finally took note- having kept an eye on him for centuries, this was the first act they found worthy of a battle. Quick-witted, he struck a deal with them; Father Charlamagne Arman, orthodox priest, was quickly gaining in popularity throughout Europe and it would not do the gods good if he chose to turn against them, for their very existence threatened his beliefs. The Dispatch would intervene as they saw fit and its agents would continue their mundane existence as _sinning saints_ , left to do their reaping and shamed for their origin. Humanity would stay out of everyone's way, as it always did.

Connor Co. kept a hand on the business long after its founder's death and would have continued if Germanus had not had one last spark of ingenuity. He could not disassociate his fine sport with common cockfighting, but he could elevate it among its supporters. For once, he turned his attention away from the lesser demons. Having convinced a sinning saint to partake in his latest scheme, Germanus used this lost soul to lure his old partner in: Domitius. Now stuck in a dead contract with the aforementioned reaper, Domitius found himself bound to Germanus' will.

Germanus took no small delight in throwing Domitius among the other mindless devils. It was the thought of fighting _him_ that drew more powerful demons, voluntary and vengeful. How long Domitius could survive under such circumstances was of no concern to Germanus. He had revived the blood sport and invigorated it with an excitement he thought lost to Rome. And whether Germanus still controlled the sport or had grown bored was of no concern to those who knew the tale.

And what was of no concern to those who knew was of no concern to the American gambler sitting between two urchins in 1889.

He and the children only had eyes for the performance. Their raven-haired contender all but danced through the first three rounds, swiftly clawing down its opponents or otherwise beating them into submission. The one-eyed boy held onto its clothes, a dirtied button-up and a black jacket that should have seen better days. Their demon itself fought with childish glee, from what the spectators could tell. It leaped and kicked, fangs bared in a grin for all to see.

The tally-shaped scars etched into the demon's back marked its victories, some still raw and bleeding. He would have thought their demon invincible if it hadn't swayed in the final round. The blonde girl had been the first to voice her concerns, in a shout of "Sebastian!"

As it struggled to stay upright from whatever unhealed wounds that ailed it, the other demon lunged and swiped, claws tearing across their devil's chest. The next swipe ripped past the demon's back, digging into fresh skin and dragging through until it curved over the torso in long jagged tears. The blood splattered like ink and the opposing crowd roared with approval. The boy in turn, booed.

Before the gambler could feel his heart sink for all the money that would be lost, their contender came through. The demon let its competition sink those claws into its shoulders before grabbing onto the opponent's arms and flipping the other demon on its head. The ensuing crack and explosion of blood received a bout of enthusiastic applause from the gambler's side of the seats. The surviving demon grinned once more, raising an arm to wave at the crowd as it struggled to limp off stage.

The dead demon's fate, though ugly, was not his concern. He and the children rushed out of their seats to rejoin their demon as the announcer appeared on stage, a nervous fellow in a shabby coat. His only concern was the words that followed: "winner take all."

The boy was quick to chastise his demon before leaving to collect their money- "walk normally or don't at all, you idiot. We can't let all of them know how bad off we are." In turn, the demon taunted him and rolling his eyes, the boy left.

The gambler was left holding the demon's clothes, thankfully unbloodied. At that point, the demon was sitting at the girl's feet, its grin slowly morphing into a pained grimace when she turned away to retrieve her items. To the gambler's confusion, the grin returned as soon the girl turned back. In her hands were two rolls of gauze.

" _Bandages, lots of bandages_ ," she had once told the gambler.

He had assumed they were for the children and their frequent street wounds. They were for the demon.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Hope that chunk of exposition didn't bore you too much. It won't come up again for a while, but it's not written this way at random. Any gaps in it are intentional and that little piece of history is important to the rest of the story.**

 **Again, reviews are more than welcome! Please let me know what you think so far.**

 **Guest #1:** Yes, we'll find out how Sebastian injured himself, or rather how he was injured lol. But I'm going to keep it a mystery for a while longer- let's just say it's part of the reason why Ciel's been so cold to him for the past 2 chapters. Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint!

 **Guest #2:** Yes, Grell will be in this story! That reaper from chapter 1 is Grell because who else could it be right, haha. Grell won't show up for a while longer, but will be sort of an anti-hero here. The shinigami aren't faring very well in this story either lol. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	4. Reliqua

**Sorry for the long wait! Chapter 4 is finally up and we're back to the main plot. I know we've been with Bard for a while and the truth is I plan to stick to his POV for a good while longer. Then it switches to Lizzie before Ciel and Sebastian get their turn.**

 **Again, thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad people are enjoying this story and that I can help contribute something to the non-romance side of the fandom.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

The demon taunted him with its eyes, sizing Bard up like some amusing morsel of prey in a game of cat and mouse. As Elizabeth dabbed at its chest, the blood dripping in unnerving patterns down alabaster skin, Bard prepared to shoot some no-doubt clever remark from his mouth. It- _Sebastian_ \- took some sadistic pleasure from the ex-soldier's discomfort, had been since the night they met- hell, it'd even gave Bard an inappropriate morning call at dawn- and Bard decided enough was enough. Sebastian wouldn't even be in this fight if it wasn't for Bard's generous donation; in fact, the trio would be out there starving on the streets somewhere.

"Outta the way," came a voice from behind, and Bard found himself rudely shoved to the side by a sweaty palm.

"Oy! Watch it!" he shot.

Ignoring him, the announcer's burly helped marched straight past and came to stand over Elizabeth, shoulders slumped and looking like he was half-drunk. A beat-up can swayed underneath an armpit. Bard assumed his throat was sore from all that hollering on his boss's behalf during the cockfight, or maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off. Almost instinctively, the girl straightened to meet the man's eyes.

"Turn 'im around," the man half grunted.

Elizabeth pressed a piece of gauze against Sebastian's backside, the demon regarding the helper with absolute boredom. Muttering to himself, the man decided not to wait for the pair- he grabbed Sebastian by the shoulder and nearly shoved it into the nearest wall, leaving an irritated Elizabeth standing by herself with a piece of crimson soaked bandage. Bard almost expected Sebastian to lash out and tear this human apart as he had so many demons (that was an image he wasn't likely to forget) but nothing of the sort happened. _Maybe it's protocol._

The can's bottom hit the ground with a thump. Bard watched with morbid curiosity as the helper roughly traced the demon's back with his fingers, looking for unscarred, uncut skin. _Good luck with that, pal_. The last son of a bitch had given the children's pet demon some trouble and a weeping gouge snaked down Sebastian's back in a distorted S curve, planted between trails of other small scars- scratched bumps and raises that marred otherwise flawless skin.

"Here?" the helper asked, reaching into his pockets.

"Go ahead," Elizabeth said, the slightest tinge of worry in her voice.

He pulled out a needle, bent and dipped into the can, and stood to plunge it into the demon's back, smoke rising from where the tip had made contact with skin, and a burst of blood flashing through.

"Hey!" Bard said despite himself.

The helper pressed the needle further in. He dragged it an inch down, creating another tally on the demon's form.

"Relax, Bardroy," Elizabeth said, forcing a smile for his sake, "this happens at the end of every cockfight- we mark the winning beast so the others will have a better chance of knowing who to bet on... or against. It all works for the best."

The smoke rose.

"Mark? With what- acid?"

"No... we call it 'elixir,' a substitute for holy water. It's not strong but enough to scar Seba- a demon."

"Say s'made from angel tears," the helper said, pulling the needle out at last, "that's a lie, mate. Demon blood an' acid, plenty of both lying around. Can melt a man's head off."

He held the needle an arm's length away, bits of blackened liquid dripping down, droplets singing the ground. Bard hoped he wasn't planning on throwing that can of 'elixir' at anyone. The helper picked up the can, too carelessly in Bard's opinion, and took his leave without another word. Sebastian pressed a back against the wall, leaving smudges of blood on the concrete.

Elizabeth came up to the demon, placing a hand on its dirtied arm. "Sit. We need to treat your wounds."

Sebastian chuckled. "My little lady, there is no need to concern yourself with me." Another condescending grin. "No need at all."

"No offense, but you should really listen to her," Bard said, "before we end up paying for that wall."

"Sit, Sebastian," the girl said again, before adding in a near growl that threw Bard for a loop, " _that's an order_."

And he thought Ciel was the intimidating one. Bard didn't know whether to laugh or look away when Sebastian finally complied, a muttered "very well" on the demon's less-than-smug lips. Elizabeth then resumed her task, dabbing away at the blood and winding gauze over the demon's injuries, starting at a torn shoulder blade and coiling past the sliced chest to cover the damage on its back.

Not long after, the one-eyed boy returned, a pouch of fortune in his hands. And a weight rolled off Bard's shoulders. Ciel cast Elizabeth and his demon a cold glance.

"I didn't give you permission to rest this long," he said, "get up, Sebastian."

"Of course." The demon rose to its feet with the slightest of stumbles, managing to muffle a hiss of pain.

"Lizzie, watch the winnings." Ciel tossed the pouch at his companion, but despite the object being in easy reach, she made no move to catch it. If Bard wasn't mistaken, she seemed to be giving the boy the silent treatment. Ciel must have noticed.

"Tonight, we'll have a proper meal," he added.

"Or we could just drink Sebastian's blood," Elizabeth said in that sweet, unreadable tone of hers.

Ciel tensed more at that obvious note of snark, or at least Bard hoped it was snark. He didn't want to go anywhere near demon blood after what the helper had said and heaven knew Sebastian was leaving it everywhere. Ciel had trouble coming up with a retort. Instead, his eye snapped towards Sebastian.

"I need you with me. Come."

"Right away."

Ciel turned and walked away, Sebastian following, neither willing to look the girl in the eye. And Bard supposed he was just invisible to the world at this point. He was about to pick up the money when Elizabeth scooped up the pouch in one fluid motion.

"We can divide this tonight- after dinner, our treat," she told him, a sincere smile this time.

"Thanks, I guess," the man replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his head in a nervous force of habit. He'd seen his fair share of seedy things in one lifetime, but this cockfight business really took the cake. Underage orphans, haphazard concoctions, monsters ripping one another apart- it really had it all. "So uh- Elizabeth-"

"Call me Lizzie!"

"Right. Uh, Lizzie- I'm in an awful lot of trouble. So it'd really make my day if we could split that money right here. Right now."

Green eyes sized Bard up and despite her significantly smaller frame, the young blonde's look managed to intimidate him ever so slightly. A beat later, Elizabeth spoke. "Bardroy-"

"Call me Bard."

She smiled. "Bard, I don't think you're a bad man. Quite the contrary, but Ciel..." she looked in the direction the boy had gone, "Ciel doesn't trust so easily. You musn't blame him- he's suffered before. We can't give you your cut until he returns."

 _I won't betray him_ , she said silently. Bard pursed his lips. Elizabeth was a loyal companion and he had no idea what hold Ciel had over the demon, but the boy indeed called the shots in this group and he knew exactly how to play "follow the leader." He cleared his throat.

"Be right back."

Bard cast his gaze on the dank hall Ciel and his demon had gone through. _Yeah, be right back._

* * *

The former soldier made sure not to step on any puddles littering the way- for all he knew, it could be acid instead of sewer water. The smell certainly matched the slums though. And the lighting was just as bad as it was the first time they came in, but now that the crowd was dispersing, Bard saw what a truly pitiful place this was. _Shouldn't even allow demons in here, much less people._

Elizabeth had no choice but to stay and watch the winnings, so he guessed he was on his own. Bard poked his head through a few open rooms, or rather, gaslit spaces with chairs. He followed the corridor, bending his head to avoid hitting the leaking ceiling, until he reached the end and the enclosure it led to. He plastered himself against the wall, seeing a flash of slate hair within.

The voice was Ciel's no doubt, regal, childish, and cold as ice.

"-next week at midnight," the boy was saying, "we'll be there."

"Don't make promises ye can't keep," a gruffer speaker replied.

"I never go back on my word."

"All yer winnings on the table. Your pet too."

Bard peeked in. Ciel's back was to him, facing a bastard in an overcoat, the demon standing beside the boy. The other man rounded on them, thick fingers poking at Sebastian's back.

"We have no issue," Ciel said, "but I have no interest in your demon. When you lose, you keep it, assuming Sebastian hasn't made short work of it."

"Tsk. Confident aren't ye, lad?"

He took out what appeared to be a jack knife and choppily cut away the bandages that Elizabeth had so painstakingly wrapped around the demon's back. "An' what makes ye think I'll want your demon? It looks 'alf dead." He pressed a palm to Sebastian's wound to prove the point, only to have it come back bloodied.

"Just a setback!" Ciel snapped.

"Then yer willing to up that wager?"

"On my life."

The man flashed a humorless grin, bending to press the blade against Ciel's throat. Bard held his tongue to keep from shouting in alarm. Ciel stayed his ground, refusing to give up a single wince. The man removed his hand, leaving a small red line on the boy's neck.

"Take yer word for it," he muttered gruffly, grabbing both ends of the knife and folding- the blade snapped out of its handle.

The blade held tightly in his hand, he stepped away from Ciel and returned to Sebastian, the demon offering an arrogant gleam, as if daring him to do what Bard suspected was coming next. The blade plunged into Sebastian's back, plops of blood gushing out as the hand pressed down, determined to bury the object deep inside.

The man removed his hand and wiped his palm against the fabric of his pants. "Come fight us with that in there. Keep it in 'til next week. Still so sure, lad?"

Bard watched Sebastian's skin stretch itself over the new injury like molting cheese.

"Just don't run away," Ciel growled.

"Won't be likely," was the reply. The man mussed a dirty hand through Ciel's hair before slipping back into the shadows, likely off to collect another bet.

Ciel wiped off the smear of blood on his collar as the demon picked up the torn bandages and tied them around itself in a near-perfect replica of Elizabeth's handiwork. As the duo prepared to step out, Bard entered their view, and he supposed he was more than unwelcome judging by the irritation mirroring both faces.

"Gotcha," he said.

"I'm impressed you made it this far," Sebastian said, then a grin, "without being eaten."

"Tch. Only thing being eaten here is money. I don't know what that was on about." Bard looked Ciel in the eye. "But I want in."

"You're not afraid we'll lose your fortune?" Ciel teased.

"I'm a gambler, kid. And I know a winning bet when I see one. Put my cut on the table."

Ciel considered his offer, silently judging Bard for signs of disingenuous words. Then he nodded. "Very well."

"Master-"

"Don't argue with me, Sebastian. Irritating you is just a bonus."

Ciel left first, and Bard tried his hardest not to shrink when Sebastian eyed him like a seething wolf.

* * *

Elizabeth didn't know. Or Bard suspected she wasn't _supposed_ to know. The man's name was Tom, nothing more and nothing less, and he had offered the boy a deal he couldn't refuse- they would bet all their winnings from the past and present against one another in the following week's cockfight, a kind of underground gamble even by cockfighting standards. Elizabeth seemed the type to object, if Bard's assumptions about this group were correct. Tom's demon hadn't fought that night, so he bet on Sebastian instead. Ciel wasn't one for extra words so Bard had to settle for the information he could get.

Tom's demon, whatever he called it, was apparently an impressive fighter and though Ciel wouldn't mind having another demon on his chain, it would be hard to manage something of that type. _Type_.

Bard bit into his second shepherd's pie as he dipped his last cigarette bunt into the shot glass before him. Having money in his pocket was no small comfort. Beside him, Ciel and Elizabeth sullenly ate their meals, the tavern's crude patrons speaking amongst one another in shouts and whispers. Leftover rain dripped through holes in the roof. _A big fancy feast, huh_.

He looked through the opened entrance. Sebastian was sitting by the doorway, fully clothed once more, and head hung low. The demon didn't look out of place beside the other dirty individuals littered about the street, though Bard was amused by the thought of Sebastian begging for alms. And still, he was forced to wonder what Ciel meant by type.

He'd seen the other demons in the cockfight, wild things that screeched at every turn. He'd also seen them speak to their handlers, albeit in little words. Compared to that lot, Bard supposed Sebastian was the only one who could pass for a man, which probably meant it was a trickier one too. Then it should by all means, be the harder type to control, not Tom's creature. Unless there was something left unspoken in the air.

Not for the first time, Bard glanced at Ciel's eyepatch.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and feel free to review!**

 **This won't be a short fic and will have 3-4 "arcs" in it. We're in the first arc right now, with Bard as the narrator. Arc 2 will be Lizzie, and Ciel/Sebastian get to share 3 (which is when the prologue took place).**


	5. Caedes

**Again, sorry for the long wait! I was busy with real life things, but I promise updates will be more frequent now. Thank you so much for the reviews- it really means a lot to know people are interested to see this story finish. Things are getting more dramatic now.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

Maybe it was dumb luck, maybe it was fate, maybe things were turning around for him _for once_ , as dirty and illegal as the turnaround was. Because Bard had money now. More cash than he could win in a week at Ferro, and it was just one cut of Ciel's winnings. The jingle of notes and coins in his pocket was enough to make his stay at that sorry excuse of a church worth it. He could even excuse that demon's sharp gaze burning into his back.

That was how his second night with them passed, Ciel and Elizabeth sleeping on opposite ends of the same pew, himself stretched on his back a few rows away from them, and Sebastian brooding by the door, leaning on it some sort of uncanny statue. In Bard's opinion, the demon should probably be sleeping too, but he'd learnt by now that Sebastian never slept, and even if it did, given the amount of damage it survived, sleep would make no difference anyway.

So Bard chose to lie awkwardly, sometimes awakened by his own snores, and try to catch some shuteye regardless of Sebastian looming over all of them like some sort of vulture looking for prey.

The children were gone in the morning, and thankfully taken their demon with them. Bard woke up with a million cramps, but that was a feeling he was used to. He checked his pockets to make sure the pouch of money was still there and the kids hadn't robbed him in his sleep. Still there. He rubbed his neck, let out one last yawn, and swung on his jacket. He'd never been a religious man, but he prayed Azzurro's temper had died down. It was time to pay back the losses.

* * *

He hadn't been to Ferro in two days, and coming back was like coming home, if that home was a broken one filled with alcoholics and assholes of every sort. Bard's type of people, not that he ever had much of a choice. He could hear distant sounds of laughter, shouting, and smashing glass from within. It was a murky day, the rain having stopped last night, leaving behind nothing but bad air and a hell of a lot of dirt.

Bard entered the casino, and almost immediately, he felt its inhabitants freeze. The poker chips fell, wheels spun to a halt, and all eyes turned to him. At the edge of the farthest poker table, Vanel himself looked up from his cards, a cigar pulling at the edge of his mouth. Silence.

Someone coughed.

"You got a death wish, yankee?" Vanel said, meeting Bard's gaze. The blond clenched his fists- _just get this over with, get this fucker off my back and I'm out._

"I got your money," was the even reply.

The place must have risen at least ten degrees by the time Bard arrived at the table. He pulled out the pouch and thrust it on the table. Vanel eyed it for a good moment before finally setting down the cards. He snapped his fingers. One of Vanel's men, the guy he'd kicked in the crotch, snatched the pouch and dumped its contents out. They counted the money.

"I'm impressed. You did it."

The room cheered. Bard crossed his arms and grinned. Vanel held up a hand to silence the crowd. "But you injured three of my men. They're like brothers to me, yankee. How are you going to make up for that?"

"It was self defense. You sent them after my skin, Vanel."

"And I have more to do that. If you care at all about your sorry hide, you'll-"

Before Vanel could finish whatever nonsense he started, a shriek erupted from the door. Hopkins burst in, eyes bulging, glasses hanging off her ears, and pure madness pouring from her being. She was covered in blood. Red. So much red. _Shit_.

A few men approached her. She shoved them away, grabbing the arm of a barmaid instead. Bard ran towards her. "What happened!?"

"I-" she stammered, either biting back tears or a scream of rage, "Mary Ann's- she-"

Mary Ann. Bard hadn't been familiar with her, but he'd seen her once or twice at Ferro's, usually drinking with Hopkins. Real pretty girl. She and Hopkins had been more than a fling, that much all the regulars knew. Hell, the way that girl looked at Hopkins- they must have been meant to be. He paled. But the way Hopkins looked now, so broken down and shocked, the way she spewed that name, he'd seen it all before, different faces, different voices, but it all meant one thing.

"She's dead," the woman said, a near whisper.

"No shit," Vanel's man said, "all that blood. Who did it?"

"Nina, who did it?" Bard asked.

She clenched her fists. The spectacles fell and cracked. "A sinning saint."

* * *

Sinning saints were not supposed to run amok, murdering whoever they wanted. At least, that was what Bard knew. Sinning saints collected the dead and that was that. They were usually a sad lot, humans that took their own lives and forced to walk the earth with the label of sinner. The incident with Mary Ann had left the casino in a sour mood, but things had went back to games and drinks soon enough. If anything, it was just distraction from Vanel's feud with his yankee. But Bard wasn't in the mood to stay. Hopkins had sworn she'd murder the sinning saint- she didn't care if they were already dead.

Long, red hair, a deep voice, a crimson coat, a rusting chainsaw. These were the details she remembered about the killer, a rebel sinning saint. Vanel wouldn't want to risk someone like that around the casino, for obvious reasons, so Bard guessed he'd see an increase in security next time he stopped by Ferro's.

He didn't have much reason to fall back in with Ciel and Elizabeth- really, he could go back to his stuffy room at the inn (if it hadn't been rented out or ransacked while he was gone). But he figured he owed the children some parting, seeing as the last thing he said to him was a snore.

When Bard got back to the church, he found and agitated Ciel pacing in front of its entrance, face so angry it was like a miniature storm cloud. He must have heard the man's footsteps. Ciel stopped and turned immediately, one eye hopeful for a fraction of a second before regaining its steely fire.

"Elizabeth's missing," the boy said.

"What?"

"She was gone in the morning. I've been searching for her all day. I thought she was with you."

Well, shit. _Shit_. Involuntarily, Bard's mind raced back to the sinning saint. If an undead maniac was on the loose, who's to say they would stop at killing Mary Ann?

"We have to find her," Bard said, more urgently than he intended.

Ciel eyed him, alarmed at his tone. The boy might have been about to ask, but they were interrupted by that demon's voice, "Master." The sound came from behind Bard and nearly sent him stumbling forward in surprise. _Damn it!_

Sebastian looked as frantic as Ciel, and if it was human, Bard might have called it winded. Ciel pushed past Bard to interrogate the demon. "Did you find anything?"

"No. I searched both ends- she couldn't have gotten far. She must be hiding."

Smack. Sebastian's head snapped to the side, Ciel's palm raking his cheek. Furious, the boy retracted the hand and barked, "Hiding!? I sent you to find and retrieve her. And that's all you have to say!?"

Bard could only watch, dumbstruck as the argument unfolded between them. Sebastian sighed, an amused glint in those eyes. "You said she ran away. As I recall, the little lady said she wanted to take a walk at dawn and purposely failed to return. I thought it best to respect her wishes if she hid herself instead. No doubt she has no desire to be with either of us at the moment."

"Damn demon," Ciel hissed.

"Moan all you want, master. You too should know her temper- if she wishes to be away from us, she will remain away." Bard swore he heard a hint of admiration in that taunting voice. He had to admit he was impressed too- Elizabeth had quite a few tricks up her sleeve if she could avoid a demon on her trail.

Hopkins' words echoed in his mind again. But he doubted either of the pair knew about the sinning saint on the loose. And he'd be damned if he let that killer anywhere near Elizabeth. "I'm stopping both of you here," he said, "we have to find the girl now. There's something dangerous out there."

He hoped the gravity of his words could sink into their thick skulls. "A sinning saint committed murder today and I'd rest easier if I knew Liz- Elizabeth was fine."

They were silent after that. After a beat, Ciel spoke. "There's someone else we could ask. I didn't want to speak to him if it was just a game of hide and seek. But I don't think we have a choice."

"Who's your man?"

"An opium dealer."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviews are always welcome!**

 **Sorry for the cliffhanger. I wanted to end on a different scene, but I think the chapter breaks off nicely here. Don't worry- Lizzie will be back soon. Next time, enter Grell! Grell starts out with a villainous bent, but but will definitely be an anti-hero in this story. We also get two more canon characters introduced in this AU.**


	6. Ruber

**Happy new year! Here's another update, at last!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

The color red was a hard thing to come by in the slums of London, unless it was blood, but even that darkened with time. Brown and grey, now that was the palette Bard was used to. And this place Ciel and his demon dragged him into, stuck out like a sore thumb. Chipped red columns, red window panes, red carpets, red curtains. It was red and black all over, the colors so strong that it looked like they were repainted on a daily basis. But it wasn't a high end place, hell no.

The whiff of smoke gave that away.

Men and women alike lay strewn on the floor, blinking groggily into the hanging gaslights, long pipes between their fingers. Kind of like Vanel's, but with twice the narcotics. As they moved deeper into the building, if it could be called that (more like an oddly colored house wedged between other "red light" houses on the street). From the business next door, Bard could hear the sound of moans and giggles. How and why Ciel even knew about this place was beyond him.

"Lau!" the boy called.

At the end of the makeshift parlor, a man lay propped against a wooden chair, a pipe in his lips and a full-bosomed girl on his arm. Ciel's Chinaman. This was the kind of bastard who'd look right at home down at the casino. Black robes shuffled as the man sat up, long lids shut. One narrow eye opened and a trance-like smile graced his mouth. "Phantomhive, is that you?" _Phantomhive, that's you, Ciel?_ The girl shifted, amber gaze unnerving Bard.

Ciel ignored the question. "I need to ask you something. Has Elizabeth come by here?"

"Elizabeth? Has she? It's been a long day." Lau laughed. "Isn't that right, Ranmao?"

The girl nodded, nose twitching. "Elizabeth," she said quietly, "Elizabeth." Ciel tapped his feet, looking as if he was going to pounce and shake this Ranmao for answers.

Lau put an arm over the girl's shoulders. "Not in here. Nearby, eh?" he said.

"Don't tell me she went into that whorehouse," Bard muttered.

"Who's this? I didn't see him earlier. Did you bring me another customer, Phantomhive?"

"Not important," Ciel said. "That's Bardroy. Just a gambler that lent some money."

Lau chuckled. "So you made another friend for once? You know, Bard-what's your name, that's how we met too. Lending money. You make friends fast that way- and my demon is very fond of their Elizabeth." _Demon? That girl, right._

"We'll be rid of him soon enough," Sebastian said. The demon had been so silent Bard almost forgot it was behind him. _Creep up on me again, why don't you?_

"Milk. She brought milk." Ranmao put her, its, chin on Lau's shoulder. "Elizabeth. Gone to the square."

"Ah, that's right!" Lau said, "she did come by, bought us some milk, neh?"

"You have the memory of a goldfish," Ciel seethed. "The square? Did she say she was going there?"

Ranmao nodded. Ciel turned his head up at Sebastian. "Did you check?"

"I did. But perhaps," the demon said, taking no small pleasure in Ciel's discomfort, "she means another square?"

"Another..." Ciel slapped himself on the head. "That old theatre! She must be hiding there- it has a stage and it's big and squared-" Here, he trailed off, a blush of embarrassment tinging his cheeks. "Come, Sebastian."

"Yeah, I'll be there too," Bard added. He was ignored.

As they turned to go, Lau threw a sachet at Ciel's head, Sebastian catching it before it made contact with hair. "Some free poppies, Phantomhive! The milk was lovely."

Sebastian shoved the packet into Bard's hand. Hard. "Take care of this won't you, _Bardroy_? It could fetch a good price later on, that is, if you don't smoke it yourself." There was a bit of a threat in that last part but Bard wasn't about to show that demon fear. Again.

* * *

They left the opium den in a blur, and it took Bard a good while to adjust to the murkiness outside of all that red. This was the far end of the city, an area that he never really had any reason to go into- if he lived nearby, he might have been one of those fellows on Lau's floor. Telltale signs of rain gathered in the clouds above. As they made their way through increasingly narrow (and stinky) streets, Bard saw signs of the theatre.

It was a pathetic place, grey and dilapidated, walls painted over with dated advertisements for once-grand music hall. According to Ciel, it served as more of a black market nowadays. That, and a place for tramps to sleep. To Bard's knowledge, Lizzie was neither a drug dealer or a lone hobo, so it utterly stumped him why Elizabeth would run off to the Blue Sphere Hall, as it was once called. Then again, he only knew her for two days.

"And you didn't think to check this area here?" Ciel chided. Sebastian replied with a knowing glance, and Bard half expected Ciel to smack it again.

But instead the boy scoffed and entered the building, seemingly a lot more at ease now that he knew his companion's whereabouts. It was about as _lovely_ a place as Bard expected, teeming with people hiding under thick tattered hoods, beggars of all ages crawling amidst unrelenting footsteps, and various disfigurements in all that grime. The damp air didn't help the smell, though Bard was quite used to it- half the city carried the same odor.

"So why didn't you tell the kid?" Bard said, daring to elbow the demon.

And instead of clawing his face out, Sebastian smirked and said, "I was waiting for him to figure it out. It's funny." The edge of a threat touched the last word again, something the demon was fond of. Ciel once compared Sebastian to a dog- Bard guessed he meant a feral dog.

They passed a cage of humanoid things, all red eyes and sharp teeth. Mindless demons slaughtering each other before they could be purchased. Ciel shook his head at the display. "Don't look so disgusted. They do that to prove who's best, like the alpha of a wolf pack. Whoever survives deserves to live on, no? That's how the rest of us decide which one to buy."

"All look the same to me."

"Usually, yes."

And as more figures came between them, Ciel said, momentarily forgetting the nonchalance he had towards the ex-soldier, "But not Sebastian. Lizzie pointed him out to me that day. He was the only one who wasn't fighting- she always had an eye for these things. Things I couldn't see... I know where she is."

Bard turned his head in every direction, but couldn't find any sign of Lizzie's golden curls. Ciel's shoulders slumped.

"She's safe. And she doesn't want to see me."

"Are you willing to adjust your attitude now, master?"

"Shut up, demon. This is all your fault!"

With that, Ciel pushed past Sebastian and shot a command at Bard. "We have another fight to go to. Coming?"

* * *

Bard should have said no. He should have declined and gone back to his sorry excuse of a home. Because as soon as they left the theatre, or sooner, he couldn't tell, a whirring _saw_ sliced off his stubble and he probably would have been chopped in half if it wasn't for that demon pulling him back. Sebastian tossed him aside like a ragdoll and Bard's jaw all but smashed against the ground.

Dazed, he rolled on his side and watched the other bastard come for him again, having escaped Sebastian's grip. His eyes widened. Red hair, deep red, redder than all the curtain's in Lau's den. It flowed like the threads of a cape. The figure was in black from head to toe, covered in dried blood and smiling like a shark behind a pair of red spectacles. Gold-green eyes laughed at him. They were face to face.

"I haven't killed a man yet." The sinning saint grinned again. "You're lucky. And it'd be oh so rude to refuse a lady, wouldn't it?"

"No lady'd do this," Bard found himself saying. Choice last words.

The saw came down again, followed by the worst cackle Bard had ever heard, but instead of hearing the splattering of his own blood, he heard the saw come to a stop. Another figure stood between him and the sinning saint, coat flowing in the wind. In front, the sinning saint dropped her grin. "William, move," she hissed.

"You know this maniac, doctor?" Ciel came to stand by the newcomer, Sebastian in tow.

The man named William turned, revealing a stoic profile and eyes hidden by round sun-shades. His nose seemed to twitch in disgust. "As much as I would like to deny it, yes, I do indeed know this vermin."

"Is that why you're out here? I thought you'd be in your office all day."

"Your lungs must be treating you well. Asking your physician so many questions." He pointed a thumb at a nearby alleyway. "You," he said to the sinning saint, the _murderer_ on the loose, "go in. I'll deal with you when this lot's gone."

"Deal?" the sinning saint purred, "in what way?"

"Just go."

And before Bard could get on his feet, the sinning saint was gone. And once that spot of red disappeared, it was as if the world turned black and white. Heart pounding, he finally realized how close he had come to dying. Dying just like Nina's lover, sliced to bits by that whirring saw. It would have hurt a hell of a lot. But he didn't feel like his world's perspective had just changed. No, he just felt numb. Nobody would have missed him anyway and it wasn't like he had anyone left to miss.

"That person was a killer, you know," he said to William, "mad, sadistic, the whole lot." He thought of Nina's sobbing face. "And you just let- let 'er go?"

"You don't know our relationship," was the only reply. And without giving any of them a second glance, William began walking towards the alley on calm steps.

"And we're just going to let this go?" Bard asked Ciel, though he was unsure what else they could have done.

"Dr. Spears is an odd man, in more ways than one." Ciel shrugged. "And as long as Elizabeth's safe, I could care less about the rest of this city."

Fair enough. It wasn't like it was Ciel Phantomhive's job to keep London safe anyway. That was a job even the devil himself couldn't do, Bard supposed. He didn't press on for more details on William Spears, but it was easy enough to guess he was the shady physician Elizabeth paid to treat Ciel's asthma before they met. A man like that must be hard to talk to anyway.

* * *

Whenever a new load of demons come in, cockfight season gets at least two shows per week, or according to Ciel, that was how it worked. Otherwise, they'd be dealing with one or two fights a month. They were nearing the height of this year's season and it was critical that they maintained a steady reputation to collect the best bets. Bard had a few questions, but he kept them to himself. He doubted the boy would humor him with an answer, much less the demon.

Sebastian took a good number of hits less than forty-eight hours ago, and that wasn't taking into account whatever other injuries it had before Bard met the children, so he was understandably not sure how well this next fight would go. And the knife lodged in the demon's back went without saying. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and watched as Sebastian (literally) tore through opponent after opponent, all while waving and laughing at the audience like he was in some sort of vaudeville play instead of a blood sport.

There were twenty demons this time, five of which were incapacitated in the first round, five that killed each other, and six that Sebastian made short work of. By the seventeenth go, the makeshift arena was covered in blood and demon carcass. By the eighteenth, Bard could see Sebastian pant, a vague sign of fatigue, and by the nineteenth, Sebastian was being pinned to a wall while another dark-haired demon pounded his ribs in. The beating went on for a while. A long while.

Ciel showed no reaction and Bard felt a twinge of unease. The last cockfight hadn't bothered him- he wasn't sure why this one did. _Not like they're human anyway_. Even so, he left while Sebastian was coughing up blood, no doubt from a smashed rib cage. He could still hear the beating from outside the fighting area- it was a soddy wall anyway. Bard took a drag of his cigarette, a stronger something he'd purchased from that market.

"Bard?"

The cigarette dropped, and in spite of himself, Bard smiled. "Eli- _Lizzie_ , where were you?"

Golden curls, clean skin, bright eyes- all in one piece. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. The wash of relief over him was indescribable.

"There's an attic in the Blue Sphere Hall." She smiled. "Ciel and I used to live there, after the workhouse, after-" she shook her head, "But that's a story for another time. I wasn't going to come back, Bard, I'm sorry."

He could understand why. Someone like Lizzie- she was too good for the rest of them, Ciel, Bard himself, Sebastian, far too good.

"But they need me."

A roar of applause caught Bard's attention. Instinctively, he turned and stared past the wall. Round twenty passed and Sebastian was leaning against the wall, a grin on his bloodied bruised face, complete with a good nosebleed. His bare chest was unrecognizable and his leg looked like it had been chewed up by a rabid dog. But the demons on the ground looked ten times worse. They'd won again.

He turned back to Lizzie, her gaze on Sebastian's victory. "And that's why I can't leave them. They need me."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and feel free to review! Again, thank you all so much for your reviews and support- it's what keeps me going! And to be honest, this will probably be my last Kuro long-shot so think of it as a swan song of sorts.**

 **I know there are a lot of questions, but don't worry- they'll all be answered n detail as the story goes on.**

 **Guest: Yes, Nina will come back! She's pretty important to the story too and it ties in with the Grell-William subplot ;)**


	7. Cinis

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! This chapter is dedicated to you lot. As I said before, this fic might be my very last Kuro long-shot (maybe even story), so it means a lot to know that at least a handful of you enjoy it, even if it's an AU that doesn't have much shipping.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji**

* * *

Elizabeth was the glue that held this group together. Bard was sure of this now- she was the sun in Ciel's sky and that demon was some strange vagabond pet they collected along the way. That was honestly the only explanation he could come up with for their trio. He was more accustomed to the cockfight's ending the second time around- that same helper came out to mark Sebastian while the audience scattered to rummage over their winnings. And while all that was happening, he watched Lizzie walk on down to Ciel's side.

Then, as if no one was watching them, they embraced- it happened so fast Bard couldn't tell who started it. He saw the boy whisper something, likely an apology, into her ear and the blonde run her fingers through the strings of his eyepatch.

"Romantic, isn't it?"

Bard nearly jumped out of his skin. When did that thing get behind him!? He frowned, turning to see Sebastian leaning over his shoulder, looking smug as ever, which was a real feat given the fact that the demon looked like absolute shit. It wiped a smear of blood from the corner of its mouth. If Bard wasn't so sure that was Sebastian's own blood, he would have assumed the demon had just finished eating some poor bastard.

"Humans will always find something to cling to, a species so full of pride and shame- it's fascinating, almost terrifying. Don't you think so, _Bardroy_?"

Sebastian made that name sound like an omen. Bard stepped away from it. "I don't know. We like smokes and drinks- s'all I really need."

The demon replied with what might have been a laugh, but Bard was too off-put to pay it much mind. Thankfully, the children rejoined them by then. Ciel tossed a roll of bandages at Sebastian, and uttered a grunt of disappointment when it failed to hit the demon in the head.

"Bind your wounds. If Lizzie has to do it again, I won't be lenient."

"Of course, master." Sebastian offered the girl a grin. "And welcome back, young lady."

Lizzie responded with a mock curtsy.

* * *

The atmosphere seemed to change completely with Lizzie's return- Bard didn't mind. There was a warmth about her, something vaguely familiar to him but long lost. Must have been the feeling of almost finding home. That was it. He was so used to living in mud that he'd forgotten what it felt like, if he ever had at all. It almost made him forget life was all downhill for them.

With the cockfights out of the way for the time being, he didn't mind their little group so much though Sebastian still unnerved him with good reason. Ciel was tense and closed off as ever, but he seemed to have gotten used to Bard's presence by their fifth night together. Well, nobody was itching to kick him out of the abandoned church or anything. Then again, Bard never really talked to them. Most of the time, he just sat in a corner or on the front steps with a bottle of brandy or a blackened cigarette. The only time he really interacted with the children was during meals, like some kind of dysfunctional family.

Ciel and Lizzie were the ones who really stuck together. They even slept on the same pew. And Sebastian- the demon had an annoying tongue. Lizzie laughed it off, Ciel took every quip as a personal affront, and Bard took every word as a coded threat. But other than that, the demon kept to itself, usually huddled at the door or sitting behind Bard on the steps, thinking about who knows what, probably the Black Plague. On the night of the last cockfight, Bard recalled seeing Sebastian sneaking off to cough up blood on the streets but he hadn't said anything and the demon hadn't brought it up either. Maybe it was his imagination, but Bard felt there was some mutual understanding there.

Bard wasn't going to let himself get used to this- that was fool's thinking. He could keep Ciel as a "business" partner, but living with that lot wasn't something he planned to do long term.

* * *

"Kicked out? Are you kidding me?"

Bard almost threw his cap at the innkeeper. He hadn't even been gone that long. The old man wiped his horn-rimmed glasses and shook that gaunt head. "Sorry, lad- it's been too long since you paid me."

"Well, I can pay you now!"

"Already rented it out- get your things and go."

"What kind of shoddy joint you running here!?"

"It's called getting by. Something someone like you wouldn't understand. I know what you're like, yankee, everyone 'round here does."

"Oh, and what's that?"

The innkeeper held up five fingers and began counting down. "Gambling addiction, prostitutes, drunkard, violent, pyromaniac."

"Pyro- that was one time! An accident!"

"You burned down my wife's stove!"

"I paid the hag back, didn't I!?"

"Do you know how hard it is to buy a stove now, one that _works_!?"

Bard threw up his arms in exasperation- it was like talking to a rock. "Fine, fine, forget it! I'll get my things and get out of your hair- won't catch me coming back here!"

He turned away roughly and went up the inn's wooden stairs on angry steps. The place had leaking pipes, bad ventilation, and creaky wood anyway, the kind of hellhole that was equally terrible year-round. And the only time a room cleared was when someone outright died or ran out of pennies to pay. Bard wasn't sure which one he was, though he did remember the murder of the tenant before him- stabbed in the gut by the bed or something, explaining the brown stain on the wall.

He entered the room and sighed. Cramped, messy, and slightly stinky. Home, sweet home. Bard didn't own many clothes but he'd been stuck in this set for too many days. After a quick change, he began packing what little he owned into a drawstring burlap sack. Clothes, matches, spare hats, the extra lighter, old photographs, and... magazines. He rolled up the sheets and took them too. They didn't belong to him, but he figured the children could use them. There was also that handgun in his drawer.

* * *

Bard made it down three blocks before Vanel's men pounced him. It was the two he busted up, and they took pleasure in pinning him to the alley wall. Vanel spent that time rummaging through the sack and sheets. Finding nothing of value, he tossed the contents on the ground. He spat on the ground and smirked.

"Well, yankee, glad we caught you today."

"What gives, Vanel? You were just lurking around my home?"

"I told you- what's owed me, I always get back."

"I already paid you back, you bastard!"

His response was a clout that sent his vision spinning. Vanel grabbed him by the collar and squeezed, tight. "That bitch took the attention last time we met, but my memory's not terrible. You killed my man and I want compensation." He rubbed his forefinger and index together. "Monetary. What else you got?"

"Nothing. That was it."

"Search him!"

Bard felt them slam him on the ground next and as they prodded his pockets and groped through his clothes, instinct told him to act- he had one chance to escape and the consequence never even crossed his mind. He pushed against them as hard as he could, shoulder blades screaming as he dug into his jacket. The safety came off. He pulled the trigger. Once, twice. Three time's a charm.

Dizzy, he stared at the smoke from the gun head, then at the blood on his pants. He looked down, the two roughs now slumped over one another, blood streaming from their heads. Then straight ahead- Vanel was staring at him, from the ground, eyes glassed over, a bleeding hole in his chest. Bard counted to ten before it dawned on him. _Guess I killed them._

He'd expected it to sting more if he ever had to kill anyone again. But save a vague nausea, he didn't really care. He pocketed the gun and stared some more. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He stooped to gather his belongings. The sheets were stained with blood now- so much for that gift. He thought of what the innkeeper said: a violent gambler, everyone knows. Those children had little enough- they didn't need him to drag them down further-

 _"You're more skilled than you look."_

Bard did jump this time. That voice. "Dem- Sebastian, what are you doing here!?" Where the hell had he come from? In plain clothes and a brown cap, the demon could have passed for any downtrodden bastard on the street. If it wasn't for that sadistic smile.

"The master ordered me to follow you- we have to make sure you don't betray us, after all." It put a finger against its mouth. "You're the first outsider who knows this much about my master and the little lady."

"I don't know anything about them. And the less they know about me, the better."

"Yes, young master does like to keep to himself. He forgets how young he is... how very young."

"Tell him to remember- it's no fun getting old." Bard went back to packing the bag.

"Tell him yourself." Sebastian gathered the sheets into its arms, the shadow of its cap momentarily hiding those red eyes. _Almost human_. "As I said, he's very young. They both are. It'd be good for him to have an older, stronger companion around."

"Thought you fit that shoe." _Why am I still talking to it?_

"I'm more like a tool. And even if that weren't the case." Sebastian circled Vanel's corpse hungrily. "There are many things I could never understand, being what I am."

The demon wrapped Vanel in the sheet with a flourish, layering the body over and over with dirtied white.

"Now what are you doing!?"

"You don't want any of these men coming after you again, do you? Hand me a match."

"Wait a minute, how long were you standing there when they were roughing me up? It'd kill you to help out?"

"From beginning to end. And not, it wouldn't have been difficult. It's just funny to watch you struggle."

Sebastian was a demon, alright. Begrudgingly, Bard pulled out a matchbox, scraped a stick, and tossed it in Sebastian's direction. Sebastian caught it and dropped it on Vanel before sucking in a breath and blowing the flames lightly. The fire trailed towards the other two bodies and trapped all three in a cage of bright orange, like a deranged firecracker that turned all into smoke.

Entranced by the stunt, Bard was unable to look away. It was as if he was back on the battlefield, and there was nothing but him and the smoke rising from burning bodies. He wondered if he was shaking, or maybe he was still rooted in place.

"You know, I was a soldier once," he said. It wasn't for Sebastian, but there wasn't anyone else around. "I don't really know why. I think- I just wanted to get out of that town. America's no better than here."

He'd been fifteen that first year in the army. Never had a mother. Asshole of a father. And when consumption took his sister- that was the final straw. Enlisted and never looked back.

"It was kind of like drinking- it had its ups and downs. I hated it but I needed it. And in the end, I fought for nothing." He nudged the ground with the toe of his shoe. "Yeah, I fought for nothing. Think I envy you. You're fighting for something at least. Those two- they need you."

At that, Sebastian said nothing, didn't even look in Bard's direction. And across the street, Bard saw a figure staring at their _bonfire_ , features too blurry to make out, or maybe it was the long white hair draped over the face. It was an undertaker. Bard wondered if he saw an uneasy grin before the undertaker walked on. _Just a crazy old man. We've all lost it one way or another._

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Again, reviews are always welcome and the best motivation ;)**

 **Next time, Grell returns and things may or may not take a turn for the worse.**

 **guests: Yes, we'll see Ranmao fight at some point but not in a cockfight. Lau relies on drugs, not fights haha. I also love the Lizzie in this story and hope it continues to do her justice! And William has a bit of a complicated backstory too, but for now, I'll say yes, he happens to be both a sinning saint and a doctor.**


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